


the princess and the privateer - aka our ship sails itself

by ashlockley



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angie the Princess of Italy, F/F, Peggy the Privateer, dubious grasp on european history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:20:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4095487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashlockley/pseuds/ashlockley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic prompt from tumblr user heartinelli:</p>
<p>pirate!cartinelli AU in which peggy is the most wanted birate and angie a princess locked in a tower by her oppressive father the king. peggy kidnaps frees angie who joins the crew and they become badass pirate gal pals.</p>
<p>And so here it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the princess and the privateer - aka our ship sails itself

“Land dead ahead!”

“Thank you, Mr Jarvis, but I can quite clearly see that myself.”

Margaret “Peggy” Carter, Lady of the Court and privateer in His Majesty’s service, snapped her spyglass shut and grinned. Her spies had been correct after all, and about a quarter of a league due north was the secret Italian fortress that had been sending raids out on British merchant ships for the better part of a year. Officially, that castle didn’t exist, nor did the numerous pirate vessels that cast off from it, but being a privateer herself Peggy could smell the obvious lie from miles off.

The Shield - a ship with crew she was proud to be captain of - had been ordered to scout out the coastline, locate and destroy the fortress.  To that end the Navy had ushered a scientist of some sort onto her ship to provide her with the necessary tools to do so and while the man was quite capable and at times could be gentleman-like, he was on the whole rather insufferable. And however, this was one of those times.

She’d asked for two hundred barrels of gunpowder from the quartermaster for the task, but Howard Stark - alleged man of learning from the colonies - insisted on experimenting with an weapon of his own design, which neatly fit into ten barrels and could, as he claimed, produce an explosive force twenty times that of the powder. Despite her protest, the Naval Command decided that Stark’s weapon test was a good idea and so here they were, off the coast of a hostile country on a mission that hinged on his personal guarantee with nothing in her hold but fifty barrels of gunpowder for her cannons and rifles and ten of what Stark called “nitramene”.

And now the man had the nerve to tell her the compound wasn’t finished.

“The explosives are not ready yet, Pegs. Unless you wanna waltz into that castle and set fire to barrels of water, you gotta postpone.”

“It’s  _Captain Carter_ , Mr Stark, and you assured me that you would be done by the time we arrived. Need I remind you we are regarded as pirates and highly wanted ones too by the French, Italians, Spanish and whoever else has interests here in the Mediterranean, and we are now sitting ducks should we be discovered.”

Stark rolled his eyes. “You think I wanna sit here with a kick me sign stuck to my back? I’d love to get outta here, but until the ntiramene finishes reacting-”

“Ugh- all right. Just get on with it,” Peggy grumbled, fingers tapping impatiently on the flintlock holstered at her hip. “Jarvis! Drop the anchor. We’re going to have to wait.”

## ~oOo~

“ _Lasciar andare me. Ho detto, lasciato andare!_ ”

Angie stumbled and fell, landing painfully on the cobbled stone floor, as the door was slammed shut behind her. She shot up back onto her feet and leapt for the handle, but the key had already turned in the lock and all she could do was pull vainly at it whilst swearing as viciously as she could.

“ _Vaffanculo, stronzo! Quando ho scappare, ho intenzione di ucciderti!”_

Her guard gave no reply and merely shut the small window grate in the door on her, leaving her trapped in the room alone again. Giving the door one last hard kick, she marched back to her dresser and pulled out her diary. She marked down the guard movements just like after the last time she’d been caught, as well as the rooms and their exits she’d discovered - and she noted, with not a small amount of annoyance, that today marked the fifteenth attempt she’d made at running away from her father.

Being a princess really wasn’t all people imagined it to be. Angie had never liked the inordinate amount of unreasonable requests and expectations thrown at her since the instant she was old enough to stand on her own two feet, and as she grew older the mountain of requirements grew with her. In particular were her father’s demands that she cease her quote-unquote “descent in spinsterhood” - known to her as her career in theatre acting - and wed the Prince of Austria or some such for the “good of the country”.

Naturally, she’d told him where he could put his demand and tried to smuggle herself out of the citadel, only to be caught under a shawl in the back of a potato cart and promptly frogmarched back to her room. Her father had very nearly exploded when he went down to rant at her, calling her ungrateful and useless and killing any affection she had left for him.The next day she was put on a carriage and taken under armed guard to the coastal fort she was currently imprisoned in until Prince Whatever arrived and was ready to marry her.

Which explained the increasing regularity of her escape attempts, since she’d overheard he was just two weeks away and had no plan to let her father use her as a political pawn. She’d been so sure she could get away this time and she’d nearly managed it too - just a few feet away from the open back gates, only to run into a soldier on her way there.

Her lockpick fashioned from an old hair pin was taken, along with the rest of her jewelry, and the window shutters were locked shut as well. Figuring out another way out was going to be difficult, she thought glumly, and for the hundredth time she wished there was somebody out there that could help her out of her predicament.

## ~oOo~

“Please tell me you’re finished, Mr. Stark.”

The man plunged some kind of instrument into the centre of the barrel and the dial went spinning like mad. That, and the insane grin on his face, told Peggy all she needed to know and she heaved a sigh of relief as she climbed back up to the deck. Night was beginning to settle in and in the distance she could see the torches flickering on the ramparts of the castle and the dark shadows of men patrolling them. Grudgingly, she admitted that the delay Stark’s project had caused would prove useful - rowing ashore undetected would be far easier under the cover of darkness than in the afternoon - but it still hadn’t been part of the plan, and the hours they spent on high alert as they waited for him to finish concocting his weapon were an unwelcome detour.

Once the nitramene was sealed up and fitted with fuses, she ordered her men aboard the rowboats and carefully (”Be careful with those, Pegs! I’m too beautiful to die!”) had the barrels lowered down before climbing onto a boat herself. With a hushed shout they cast off, oars quietly chopping through the still ocean, and it was so eerily quiet Peggy couldn’t help but shiver a little. The hair on the back of her neck prickled uncomfortably as it always did just before she got into a fight and she trusted that feeling, keeping a tight grip around the grip of her sword with one hand and around the pistol’s. When, not if, push came to shove she’d need her wits about her and her weapons at the ready.

On still waters they managed to make it to the coast at a rapid pace and once the bows plowed into the sand they disembarked as quickly as their cargo allowed. Peggy hauled a sack of rifles over her shoulder and double-timed it past the treeline into cover before returning to unload more of their equipment, and soon the boats were empty and discreetly tucked away behind a rocky outcrop.

Using the map she’d obtained from the spies, she navigated to the country road she’d marked down - it led straight to the castle’s back gate, which was reserved for use by servants and the like. It would be easy enough to sneak in with their disguises and she wasn’t expecting much resistance in the way of the guards at the door. However, infiltrating and placing the nitramene around the place was another question entirely and despite the unlikeliness of the situation Peggy hoped they’d be able to sneak out before it erupted into an all-out firefight.

The spies, as promised, had left a dozen horses tied up at the junction, and once they assembled the carts they’d brought ashore they set off, guns and explosive carefully hidden under vegetables and blankets. She sat at the head of the column, her long locks pinned back under her red, blue-trimmed hat and her coat pulled over her chest, and watched quietly as the stone walls of the fortress came into view. Playing a man had never been an issue, and the tendency of most men to disregard the possibility of a woman hoodwinking them played to her advantage more often than not.

A cursory introduction in Italian and a flashed grin was more than enough to secure passage past the guards and once their backs were turned they were swiftly subdued. The carts were unloaded and Peggy ordered her men into groups, each taking one of the nitramene barrels, before taking charge of hers and heading off to their target.

She stepped quietly through the castle, leading her team through the dark, winding hallways with a practiced ease and confidence, They were almost there - just a hundred yards away from the supporting column, she reckoned - and she was of the opinion that it was going rather well when all of a sudden somebody shouted above their heads and the courtyard was flooded with light. Peggy barked out her orders as she dove for cover, narrowly the first round of shots that rained down, and loaded up her own rifle before taking aim and firing. A soldier toppled over the battlements with a cry, following another couple of his comrades on the way to the stones below, and she heard her hearbeat pounding in her ears as she ducked again, stone chips and lead sparking just inches above her.

“Oi! Dugan! Get that bloody barrel up here on the double!”

“You try carrying this thing,” the mustachioed man shouted back as he fired. “It weighs a fucking ton!”

Peggy grinned. “My mother could run faster than you! Sharpish, Dugan,  _capito_?”

## ~oOo~

Angie jerked awake very suddenly and reluctantly, but the sleepy haze lifted as soon as she heard the gunshots. The planks over the windows made seeing anything going on in the courtyard nearly impossible, save for the flash of gunpowder as rifles fired, but judging by the confused shouts she could hear it was pretty serious.

With pretty much all her sharp objects removed after her last escape, she was kinda lacking in terms of something to defend herself with. and the best she could do was smashing the only chair in the room and picking up a splintered leg carefully. Hopefully, whoever it was attacking wasn’t here for her and would cause enough ruckus to keep the guards occupied as she slipped away unnoticed. And as if on cue, she heard footsteps coming up the spiral staircase and hid herself behind the armoire, breathing steadily as she waited for the door to swing open.

The wood of the door nearly splintered as it was thrown open, a singular guard rushing in, and before he could react Angie swung her makeshift baton and caught him right on the back of the head. He went down like a sack of potatoes, hitting the floor with a satisfying thud, and she went through his pockets, taking the keys and the pistol he had in his belt. Her heart raced as she slammed her prison shut on him, and running down the tower was no less exhilarating than the last time she’d run for it.

She poked her head around the corner once she’d reached the bottom of the stairs, looking out for any stray soldiers. Fortunately, the fighting in the courtyard seemed to have drawn them away and as far as she could see the path to the back entrance was open. All she’d have to do was skirt around the kitchens and head past the toilets, then she was home free and there was enough money stashed in her pockets to buy new papers and set herself up as Angie Martinelli, stage actress extraordinaire. She always liked her mother’s surname better anyways.

She was tiptoeing through the halls when suddenly two figures appeared up ahead. Both had swords drawn and were duelling viciously, stabbing and slashing and parrying at a furious pace, but one of the men, clad in a long navy trenchcoat and a bright red hat, was clearly the better of the two swordsmen. He moved faster than the other, reacted faster than the other and the way he handled his weapon was a sight to behold. With a great cry, he disarmed his opponent and drove the point of his sword right through his opponent’s heart before pulling the blade free and letting him drop to the ground. Angie watched in rapture as the man produced a handkerchief and wiped the blood clean from the steel, but something shifting behind him caught her attention and she looked up. There was a soldier taking aim at the red-hatted man from a few yards away, but he hadn’t noticed and had his back turned to the danger. Angie’s heart jumped into her throat and without thinking, her hand went for her pistol, lifting it into position and desperately hoping her aim was as good as her acting then- 

## ~oOo~

Peggy was a little short of breath after her impromptu duel, leaning heavily on the wall as she sheathed her blade. The firefight had devolved into a close quarters affair after the two sides ran out of either shot or powder, and it proved to be as messy as she’d hoped it wouldn’t be. Most of the soldiers were only barely acquainted with their weapons and easy enough to cut down, but oddly there were members of the Royal Guard present, their green uniforms clearly visible as they ducked between cover, and their officers were more than proficient.

The man she’d managed to defeat was the Captain of their group, and by far one of the keenest swordsman she’d fought in a while. He’d led the charge against her team and gutted poor Juniper before she clashed with him, pushing them both clear of the rest of the fight. The duel had been a short, but brutal one - neither of them shied away from punching and kicking when they saw an opportunity - and Peggy could feel the dull ache of a bruise forming where he’d caught her in the cheek with a nasty right hook. She’d paid him back in full though, and in the end he faltered before she did and now he was the one dead at her feet.

She was regaining her breath when suddenly-

In her tiredness she neglected to take note of her surroundings, and the sound of a pistol firing caught her unawares. Her immediate reaction was to drop and crawl behind the nearest column, but when nobody came charging at her yelling like a lunatic she decided it was probably safe enough to take a look and popped up in time to see an Italian rifleman crumple into the dirt. Turning her head and expecting to see Dugan smirking like the smug bastard he was, it was fair to say she was more than pleasantly surprised when she spotted a young woman some thirty odd yards away shaking like a leaf in the wind and a pistol raised squarely at where the rifleman had stood. Peggy got up slowly and when the woman turned her terrified stare to her she smiled, raising her hands clear from her weapons.

“ _Come ti chiami_?” she asked, The woman blinked once, twice at her as if she wasn’t sure she was there, and Peggy noticed she had the most striking blue eyes she’d ever seen.

“ _Angela_ ,” came the soft reply. “ _Angela Martinelli_.”

“ _Ciao_ , _Angela_. _Il mio nome è Peggy, Peggy Carter._ ”

The woman’s eyebrows rose. “ _Il pirata Margaret Carter?_ ”

Peggy rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. 

“ _Il **corsaro** Margaret Carter_,” she corrected, and it was Angela’s turn for an eyeroll.

She tried approaching Angela slowly, step by step down the hall, and took her not running away to be a good sign. Eventually she was face to face with her and whilst maintaining eye contact eased the pistol from her hands - sure it was empty, but it was by no means safe. Anybody holding a weapon was a fair target, she’d learned a few minutes after taking command of her ship, and she didn’t want some idiot shooting her new friend before she’d gotten to know her.

“ _Mi hanno detto che eravate dieci piedi di altezza e brutto come una strega_.”

That got a sharp chuckle from Peggy, and as she laughed she pulled her hat off and shook her hair free, letting it tumble back down over her shoulders.

“ _Ti sembro una strega gigante_ , _Angela_?”

Angela visibly gulped and a sharp red bloom coloured all the way up the curve of her neck and onto her cheeks.

“ _No, sei- sei molto carina_.”

“ _Grazie, cara_.”

Angela’s blush intensified and Peggy would have loved to see more of it, but down the hall a few Royal Guard clattered into view and it took them all of a second to spot the two of them. Sweeping the woman behind her, Peggy pulled the two pistols she kept tucked behind her back and fired before turning back, lifting Angela up bridal-style and legging it without taking a look behind her. 

Dashing through a castle with a not-insubstantial woman in her arms whilst people yelled and shot at her was not easy at it sounded, but it was definitely as, if not more exciting. She alternated between looking down at Angela and up at where she was going, and it would be plain lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the heated stare she was getting from the Italian girl.

She skidded into the courtyard at the back gates and ignored the incredulous looks she received from her men as she climbed up onto a horse and helped Angela on behind her. They followed suit, cutting the horses free from the carts and mounting them, and she nudged her horse slightly with her heels and it reared up, whinnying loudly.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, boys!” she shouted, and they thundered their reply as she led them on a brisk gallop out through the gates. Angela’s arms wrapped tightly around her waist as they hurtled down the road, leaving beleaguered Italians in their wake, and Peggy kept one hand over hers and the other on the reins.

Dugan pulled up alongside her, looking no worse for wear besides the wet smear of blood on his face that clearly hadn’t come from him. She was about to ask him about the timers they’d set on the nitramene when she saw the stupid smirk on his face, and groaned at his waggled eyebrows.

“Found yourself a damsel in distress, Carter?”

“She was most definitely not in distress,” she said pointedly, remembering the shot the other woman had taken. Come to think of it, the rifleman had probably been aiming at her and without even being asked, Angela had saved her life. “Keep your damn eyes on the road, Dugan, I don’t want to have to explain to your wife why you’re returning to her in a closed casket.”

The man had the gall to wink at her. “If you insist, Captain.”

“Isn’t that nitramene supposed to have gone off by now? I swear to God, if it doesn’t I’m going to wring Stark’s little goose neck-”

Her vision whited out for a second, the flash of the explosion far too bright against the darkness, and the subsequent deafening boom was painfully loud and ringing in her ears. She turned her head for a second and caught a glimpse of the entire fortress toppling in on itself in a blaze of fire, and in that instant she didn’t know whether to call Howard Stark a genius or a madman.

## ~oOo~

Angie woke up slowly this time, stretching out under the warm sheets as her brain clicked into gear. It took a while before she even opened her eyes and when she did it was obvious she wasn’t in her room, and it became even more evident when the whole cabin started bobbing up and down gently. She was at a complete loss when memories from the night before rushed back - running, bumping into a  ~~hideous~~  gorgeous Peggy Carter and being rescued to the background of a spectacular explosion. It sounded almost too ridiculous to believe.

She was free. Probably. Possibly. Peggy Carter was known quite widely in Italy as pirate scum with allegiance to the British Crown, so being a Princess of an enemy state on the woman’s ship maybe wasn’t the best position to be in - but on the other hand Peggy hadn’t seemed to recognise her as anybody special during the escape. There was still a chance she could act her way off the ship, and then her new life could start for real.

There was a knock on the door and Angie practically jumped at the sound, gathering the sheets around herself.  She was still dressed, though her dress did smell like soot, but there was no taking chances on a pirate ship and if she had to bash somebody over the head and swim back to shore she’d do it in a heartbeat.

“ _Ciao? Angela_?”

Peggy’s voice was muffled through the door, but it still sounded as gentle and steady as it did the night before. Angie hesitated for a second - and then came another knock, a little louder than the last, and she quietly padded over to the door, careful not to squeak as she stepped on the floorboards.

“ _Sono solo. Non devi preoccuparti, non ho intenzione di farti del male_.”

“ _H-hai promesso_?”

“ _Avete la mia parola come una signora_.”

Her hands shook a little as she unlatched the door, letting it swing open, and a part of her was ready to bite and kick ass until she was free. But there was nobody on the other side of the doorway, nobody besides Peggy with her red hat and a shy smile. Angie felt her face heat up again as she returned the grin, feeling suddenly very self conscious and patting down the wrinkles in her dress as discreetly as she could.

“ _Posso entrare_?”

“ _Oh- sì, per favore_ ,” she managed, stepping to the side to let the other woman in. Peggy flashed her another grin as she passed her, and waited for her to sit down before she followed suit.

“ _Hai dormito bene_?”

“ _Sì, grazie_.”

“ _Penso che dovrei ringraziare per aver salvato la mia vita ieri sera,_ ” Peggy replied. “ _Sei stato molto coraggioso_.”

“ _Prego_. Um- sorry- I can speak English, if you want-”

“Oh- I- either is fine, I just- I thought my Italian wasn’t that bad-”

An awkward silence hung in the air and Angie mentally berated herself for putting a foot in both their mouths, still smiling and hoping she didn’t come off as a doof. Peggy shifted in her seat, hand going up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, and she really tried not to stare but the woman looked like something out of an oil painting.

“It’s not,” Angie said, after a beat. “Your Italian, I mean. It’s really good.”

“Thanks, Angela.”

“Please, just Angie. Only my pa calls me Angela, and trust me, you don’t want to sound like him. He’s an ass.”

“Sure,” Peggy grinned. “So, Angie. Do you have anywhere you need to be? I’m sure you don’t want to stick around any longer than necessary, not on a boat with a giant witch and her pirate horde.”

 “Y’know, I didn’t mean that witch thing at all,” she huffed. “You caught me at a weird time, English, and if you remember-”

“You said I was very pretty.”

Angie’s cheeks burned. “Well, you are, and don’t pretend you don’t know it.”

“Well I won’t if you won’t,” Peggy answered with a grin, and Angie knows she probably looks like an overripe tomato by now. “And- English? A bit on the head, isn’t it?”

“I think it suits you,  _English_. I only nickname people I like, so don’t complain.”

Something in the woman’s eyes sparkled at that, and her laughter made Angie’s heart beat a little faster.

“You like me?”

“You kidding me? The stories people tell about you - not the ones where you’re deformed or something - they’re amazing. I wish I had the guts to do half the things you’ve done.”

“Angie, you shot a man dead at twenty yards with a smooth bore pistol and saved my life. I’d hardly call that nothing.”

“I did, didn’t I?” She grinned, buoyed by the compliment and the feeling of pride rising in her chest. “It  _was_ pretty amazing.”

“So  _modest_ ,” Peggy teased, and reflexively Angie swatted her on the arm. For a second she thought she’d overstepped some kind of line, but then the other woman simply kept laughing and bumped her shoulder against hers. “But honestly, Angie, I think if you wanted something you’d definitely get it.”

Angie bit her lip as she watched the other woman. There was something incredibly compelling and attractive about Peggy Carter and while she wouldn’t say she was one of the girls who believed in falling for somebody they just met, Angie honestly felt quite taken with her. And if  _those_  stories she’d heard about Peggy’s companions were true, then-

“-and we’ll make harbour there in about half a day, and then you can go on your way.”

“W-what?”

Peggy blinked at her. “We’re harbouring at Gibraltar, and I think I can book you passage back to Italy. I’d bring you back myself, but getting shot at with cannon isn’t as fun as it sounds.”

“Oh.” Her heart sank. “Thank you.”

  _Well,_  she thought, _you’ve landed yourself in it again_. 

## ~oOo~

The sails had a good bit of wind in them and the ship was practically skipping over the waves. At their current speed and heading, Peggy calculated, they’d be in safe waters in about two days, perhaps one and a half if the wind kept on picking up. The Italians hadn’t sent any ships after them yet - they were probably too busy pulling themselves out of the rubble and licking their wounds to go hunting - and so long as they didn’t accidentally run into any patrols it would be pretty quiet.

She recognised the sound of Stark’s footsteps approaching from behind her - light, but with an arrogant swagger that gave him away - and could already feel the sigh coming when he leaned against the railing next to her.

“How can I help you, Mr. Stark?”

“I heard we have a guest on board,” he mused, “and that you've moved down into crew quarters.”

“I thought it appropriate to extend some courtesy to someone who saved my life. I understand manners may be alien to you, but gratitude must be a concept you have some inkling about.”

“Wow, don’t bite my head off, Pe- Captain Carter. I was literally stating the facts.”

Peggy sighed, but it felt more tired than exasperated. “Look, Howard, it’s been a long day. If there’s a point to this conversation, please get there.”

“Some of your crew are talking behind your back, Peggy. They don’t like having a foreigner, let alone an Italian, on the ship.”

“It’s my prerogative as Captain of this vessel to do with it what I will,” she muttered. “If they don’t like it, they’ll just have to deal with it.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

Stark didn’t say another word before he disappeared again, leaving Peggy alone at the helm, and she watched the waves crashing into the bow in silence. Not all the men liked her, she knew that, and liked it even less to be captained by a woman, but she’d earned her rank and she’d like to think their respect too, no matter how grudgingly it came. Howard’s warning made it sound like her hard work had been for nought - after all, if her authority was questioned after a minor decision like that, she should be worried.

With a shake of her head, she dismissed the thought. It would breed insecurity and resentment, neither of which were conducive to clear thinking and good leadership. Stark was a man prone to over-exaggeration and was likely applying that particular skill to this situation, turning what was probably a throwaway gripe into a full blown mutiny. Her headache was bad enough as it was, there was no need to make it worse over nothing.

She made her way down to the crew quarters, where she’d set up a bunk to sleep in until Angie was safely back on land. It had been far too long since she’d actually rested and she felt tired to her bones as she climbed the steps, moving on sheer will and muscle memory rather than looking where she was going. That meant she didn’t even see Angie until she nearly bowled her over, but fortunately she jolted back into consciousness to catch the woman before she fell.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Angie,” she apologised, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, no harm done, English.” 

The woman grinned, and Peggy realised she was probably holding on a little too long before promptly tucking her hands behind her back. She cleared her throat, apologised again and was about to head off when Angie’s hand caught hers.

“You don’t look so good, Peggy. Need somebody to talk to?”

“I’m just tired. A light kip and I’ll be back to normal.”

Angie didn’t look like she believed her, but nodded anyways. “You want me to walk you back to your room? I don’t want you sleepwalking over the side of the ship.”

“That’s very nice of you, Angie, but I’m fine, really. And anyways, I’m sleeping in a crew cot tonight, and believe me it gets pretty ripe down there.”

“You’re bunking with the crew?” The woman frowned, then her eyes widened. “I’ve taken your cabin! No, unacceptable, English, you are sleeping in your own bed tonight and no objections.”

“Angie-”

“You saved me from a meaningless existence of grudging servitude, so the least I can do to repay you is giving you a decent rest.”

She let herself be dragged to her cabin, adamant on refusing and leaving, but the instant she hit her mattress her protests evaporated. She sighed, flopping weakly around on the bed, and cracked an eye open at Angie, who was smiling triumphantly from the doorway.

“Thank you,” she mumbled through the brim of her hat. “But where are you going to sleep?”

Angie shut the door behind her with a chuckle and threw herself down next to her.

“C’mon, scooch over.”

Too tired to argue, Peggy did as she was told and the other woman wriggled into place. Her breath hitched when Angie rolled onto her side facing her, and she could feel her eyes tracing over her face, her neck, and-

“You’re beautiful, English.”

“T-thank you,” she breathed. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“You know, I loved those stories about you as I was growing up,” Angie whispered, her breath tickling torturously over the skin of Peggy’s neck. “All those adventures, all those daring escapes - and it never seemed real at all, not until you rescued me.”

“You don’t have to thank me-”

“I do. And if I’m leaving tomorrow, you’d damn better let me.”

And without so much as another word, Angie’s hand snaked its way behind her head and pulled her straight into a kiss.

Peggy pretty much blanked out for a few seconds, and when she came to she had rolled on top of the other woman and her lips planted on her neck. Angie was moaning contentedly as she kissed her way down the soft expanse of skin, and her fingers were tangled up in Peggy’s hair. Peggy reached down to pull gently at Angie’s thigh, and her heart skipped a beat when both legs wrapped around her and pressed the two of them even tighter together. 

“Angie,” she mumbled into her neck, “you are absolutely gorgeous.”

“Less talking, more kissing,” Angie ordered, and pulled her up to press their lips together again.

“Aye, aye, captain,” she chuckled between kisses. “As you command.”

Her coat came off, then her hat, and somehow her boots managed to disappear. Angie’s irises were black circles as she watched Peggy pull her clothes off, layer by layer, and wasted no time in unlacing her own gown before she leaned up to kiss her again. Angie’s smooth, impossibly delicate hands glided over her skin, over every scar and scratch, and the woman not only didn’t seem to care but actually took the time to press her impossibly warm lips against every single one of them on the way down to her heaving chest-

**_BANG. BANG._ **

“Bugger off!” Peggy yelled. “I’m busy!”

“Open the damn door, Carter!” Stark yelled back, and as she was drawn back into the real world from the heaven that was Angie she noticed there was a fair amount of noise coming from all around them that sounded awfully like-

“There’s a fucking mutiny going on, Pegs, and I’d like to say I told you so, but I’d rather not die right now so open the goddamn door!”

She moved quickly pulling her clothes back on, slidiing her arms back into her longcoat’s sleeves - before drawing her sword and marching to the door. A flick of the wrist opened the latch, and Stark practically flew into the room with Jarvis in tow. They landed on the floor with an painful thud, and the American scrambled back onto his feet before slamming the door shut again.

“What in the blazes is happening?”

Howard shot a look at Angie, who was trying to simultaneously relace the front of her dress and not look mortified with embarassment.

“I could ask you the same thing-”

Peggy growled and slapped him in the cheek. “Focus, idiot. What is happening?”

“It appears some of the crew have defected,” Jarvis supplied as Angie helped him to his feet. “Also, there’s an Italian naval warship approaching from about half a mile on a bearing of 030.”

“Goddamnit, I leave you in charge for one hour and it all goes to shit.” Peggy turned to Angie. “Darling, stay here. Stark, you too. I don’t need a civvy wandering into the line of fire or getting in my way. Jarvis, draw your sword, start acting like an officer and fight with your captain.”

“Uh- excuse me! I’m not useless, you know!” Angie exclaimed. “I can shoot, and I’ve handled a sword before-”

“Angie.” Peggy stared firmly at the other woman. “I don’t doubt you can, but it is not going to be a fair fight out there. These men fight dirty, and I do not want you hurt at all. So please, just stay here and wait for me. I promise I’ll be back soon.”

Angie opened her mouth to protest, but a scream so loud it was clear through the ceiling made her reconsider. “Fine. But you better keep those legs safe, English, or you’ll have another mutiny on your hands.”

“A little soon for that joke, I think,” Peggy chuckled. “Come along, Jarvis. Let’s go get our house in order.”

Marching back onto the deck, Peggy found herself launched almost immediately into a fight. Fortunately for her, the men who had defected were all wearing some ridiculously insignia on armbands, which made identifying and cutting them down much easier. She parried a thrust at her belly from Rumlow (she never quite liked the man anyways) and hacked into his neck before planting a boot into his chest and sending him into the sea.

“Jarvis, where is the Italian ship?”

“Ten o’clock!” her lieutenant replied as he ducked a swung blade. “Maybe twenty minutes away!”

“Get down to the cannons!” she yelled, throwing herself down just in time to avoid a hail of gunfire. “I want them ready before they get here!”

Her men were doing well against the mutineers - Dugan looked as lively as every, his fists flying as he knocked down man after man - but they had lost a few people too. Peggy interfered as much as she could, shielding the weaker members of the crew with her sword, and eventually found herself scrambling up the helm and coming face to face with Grant Ward, sporting the odd skull-and-snakes emblem on his arm and holding a bloody dagger in his hand.

“You were always a bit of snake, Ward,” she growled. “I didn’t think you’d stoop so low as to become  a traitor.”

“A traitor? You’re just a sellsword, Carter, a pirate bitch with no other loyalty than to the coin. At least I have something true to believe in.”

“Yeah? And what’s that then?”

“Hydra,” he announced, teeth bared in a wicked smile. “We own this country, and you’ve taken something that belongs to us.”

“Who- Angie?”

“Who else?” Ward lunged, but she parried his blades and knocked him back. 

“Touch one hair on her head, and I swear I’ll gut you like a trout.”

“Hydra always wins, Carter. Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.”

“How about I snick off that mouthy head of yours and see whether that’s true or not,” she retorted, and lunged.

The man was fast, she’d grant him that much, and he deflected every slash and stab she aimed at him with the short daggers he held in each hand. Peggy threw a punch at his smug bastard face, which connected satisfyingly with his face, but her smile was too soon. He took her moment of over-extension and grabbed her wrist, twisting with all his might, and she screamed as something snapped and her blade tumbled from her hand. She caught his other hand with hers as it came down with a dagger, and she watched the tip of the blade dip closer and closer to her shoulder until it pierced straight through the coat and into her flesh.

“You should’ve just given us the girl,” Ward gloated. “Then maybe, we would’ve let you live. But now you’ll die, you fucking bitch-”

“Hey!”

Ward turned, distracted by the sudden noise, and Peggy’s sword impaled him straight through the neck. He stared in disbelief at the blood spurting out of the wound, hands clawing ineffectively at the blade, and she watched in wonder as Angie pulled the blade free and kicked him square in the groin. The man fell to his knees, eyes crossing in agony as he died, and slumped onto the bloody deck.

“You need help there, English?”

Peggy managed a weak smile. “Just a little.”

Angie’s smile faltered when she noticed the dagger buried to the hilt in her shoulder. “Oh God, Peggy-”

“Don’t, I’ll just bleed everywhere. You see Jarvis?”

“Yeah, he’s retaken the main battery. The cannons are ready-” Angie searched through her pockets and produced a small, glowing orange ampule. “-but Mr. Stark gave me this. He said you’d know what to do.”

“Howard, you mad genius,” she muttered under her breath. “Angie, I’m going to need you to throw this at the other ship once it reaches us. I’d do it myself, only-”

“Yeah, yeah, excuses, English,” Angie teased.

“Something like that.” Peggy glanced at the warship, which was just about on them. “I think we might need to have a little talk after this though.”

The other woman swallowed nervously, but managed a smile “Yeah. That’d be... great.”

## ~oOo~

Staring at the smouldering wreckage of the other ship, Peggy grunted in pain as Jarvis bandaged her shoulder up. He had a nasty gash just over his eye, which had clotted into a brown, crusty mess, but other than that he seemed okay.

“You need to take better care of yourself, ma’am,” he admonished. “I do this far too often for my liking.”

“Yes,  _captain_ ,” Peggy muttered, and regretted it almost immediately when he jabbed a needle into her arm and she yelped. “A little warning perhaps, Jarvis?”

“Don’t be a baby. Ah, Miss Martinelli, maybe you could get it through the captain’s thick skull that she should be more careful at times.”

Angie met Peggy’s eyes with a nervous smile. “I’ll try my best, Jarv.”

“So...” Peggy started, once the man had left. “Do you have anything you want to tell me?”

The other woman swallowed. “I’m not just Angie Martinelli. I’m.. well, Princess Angela of Italy. Please don’t be mad at me, English, I’m real sorry I didn’t tell you earlier but-”

Peggy felt a giggle bubbling up past her lips, and let herself laugh like a crazy woman. Angie stared at her, scandalised, and swatted her arm again with her cheeks burniing red.

“Darling, I’m not mad,” she answered with a chuckle. “Truly.I’m just disappointed you didn’t tell me I was snogging royalty, because if you did I’d have stepped up my performance.”

“Peggy!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting married?”

“Not in a million years, you ass. Why’d you think I was trying to escape?”

“Escape? Weren’t you rescued by a dashing, beautiful British adventurer?”

“Please, I rescued you!”

Angie was laughing too, her smile bright and beautiful, and it made the ache in her shoulder a little less painful. Their fingers laced together and they rested their foreheads against each to other, finally relaxing to the sound of waves lapping against the hull.

“I assume I don’t have to drop you off Gibraltar then?”

“You’re not getting rid of me, Peggy. I’m becoming a pirate just like you.”

“ _Privateer_ , darling, I’m a  _privateer_.”

“Shut up, English. You talk too much.”

**Author's Note:**

> Italian lines:
> 
> Sorry if they don't make sense, I used a translator :P
> 
> “Lasciar andare me. Ho detto, lasciato andare!” - Let go of me. I said, let go of me!
> 
> “Vaffanculo, stronzo! Quando ho scappare, ho intenzione di ucciderti!” - Fuck you, jerk! When I escape, I’m going to kill you!
> 
> “Come ti chiami?” - What’s your name?
> 
> pirata - pirate
> 
> corsaro - privateer
> 
> “Mi hanno detto che eravate dieci piedi di altezza e brutto come una strega.” - They told me you were ten feet tall and ugly like a witch.
> 
> “Ti sembro una strega gigante, Angela?” - Do I look like a giant witch, Angela?
> 
> “No, sei- sei molto carina.” - No, you- you’re very pretty.
> 
> “Grazie, cara.” - Thanks, darling.
> 
> “Sono solo. Non devi preoccuparti, non ho intenzione di farti del male.” - I’m alone. Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.
> 
> “H-hai promesso?” - You promise?
> 
> “Avete la mia parola come una signora.” - You have my word as a lady.
> 
> “Posso entrare?” - Can I come in?
> 
> “Oh- sì, per favore.” - Oh- yes, please.
> 
> “Hai dormito bene?” - Did you sleep well?
> 
> “Sì, grazie.” - Yes, thank you.
> 
> “Penso che dovrei ringraziare per aver salvato la mia vita ieri sera.” - I suppose I should thank you for saving my life last night.
> 
> “Sei stato molto coraggioso.” - You were very brave.
> 
> Prego - You’re welcome.


End file.
